


green eyes

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-25
Updated: 2009-01-25
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: "She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes - Harry's eyes."





	green eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

A/N:  I really need to start writing something besides angst drabbles. Any ideas?

 

 

green eyes

 

 

Lily had green eyes.

Mr. Peterson, the elderly man who lived just a few houses down from us, absolutely adored them. Sometimes when Father was late from work we would sit outside on the front porch admiring the sunset until he came home, and Mr. Peterson would hobble on by with his amiable smile and shabby walking stick.

He would always stop for just a moment to exclaim, "Why, that little girl has the prettiest eyes I've ever seen!" And Mother would always smile back and greet him, lifting her hand in a neighborly wave. He never made any indication that he heard or saw her response; instead he seemed to continue down the street as though he had never stopped in the first place.

One day, after he had just ambled past us in his usual routine, I asked Mother why he did it. A sad little smile crumpled her charming features, and she followed the old man's progress with her eyes when she answered me. "Mr. Peterson is a very sick old man." And that was that.

There was never any question that it was Lily he was talking about, but sometimes, I liked to tune out the sound of my sister thanking him - pointlessly, since he never acknowledged her gratitude - and pretend it was me he was complimenting: me with the pretty green eyes and the gracious acceptance of flattery.

Reality hardly seemed fair. Mr. Peterson, oblivious to half the neighborhood occupants, seemed to know Lily at least by her eyes if not by name. Mother was predisposed to like her younger daughter more because her deceased father had had the same emerald eyes. Father's favorite color was green.

My eyes were dull and unimpressive, too insignificant in color and brightness to be noticed by anyone. They never screamed for attention like it was going out of style, never inspired a man to fall in love with me, never made me anything special; in fact, they never did much of anything except see.  


And all I could see was the ironic truth: Lily had the green eyes, but I was the one who was green with envy. 

 

 


End file.
